UTE.

  My child!

  KRIEMHILD (seizes a torch).

  ’Tis he!  I know, I know! 
  Let no one tread on him; for thou didst hear
  The servants stumble over him.—­The servants! 
  Yet once great kings made way for him.

UTE.

The light!

KRIEMHILD.

I’ll place it there myself.

[She opens the door and falls to the floor.]

                                         Oh Mother, Mother,
  Why didst thou bear thy child!  Oh thou dear head,
  But let me kiss thee.  I’ll not seek thy mouth,
  For all to me is precious.  Thou canst not
  Forbid me as thou would’st perhaps.—­Thy lips—­
  ’Tis too much pain!

CHAMBERLAIN.

She’s dying.

  UTE.

  I could wish
  That she might die!

  SCENE VI

  Enter GUNTHER with DANKWART, RUMOLT, GISELHER and GERENOT.

  UTE (approaching GUNTHER).

  My son, what deed was this?

  GUNTHER.

  I fain would weep myself.  Yet of his death
  You’ve heard already?  By the holy words
  Of our good priest you were to learn of this. 
  I went to tell him in the night.

  UTE (with a motion of the head).

  Thou see’st
  The dead man told his story for himself.

  GUNTHER (aside to DANKWART).

  But how was this?

  DANKWART.

  My brother bore him here!

  GUNTHER.

  For shame!

  DANKWART.

  From his intent he’d not desist,
  And when he came again he laughed and said: 
  This is my gratitude for his farewell.

  SCENE VII

  Enter the Chaplain.

  GUNTHER (going to meet him).

  Too late!

  CHAPLAIN.

And such a man slain in the woods!

DANKWART.

The robber’s spear was guided by blind chance,
So that it struck the spot.  In such a way
A child may kill a giant.

UTE (still busying herself with the maidens over KRIEMHILD).

Rise, Kriemhild!

KRIEMHILD.

Another parting?  No, I’ll cling to him,
And to the grave together will we go,
Or you must leave him here.  But half my love
I gave him living.  Now that he is dead
I know it.  Were it the reverse!  His eyes
I never yet had kissed!  All, all is new! 
We thought we’d time before us.

UTE.

Come my child! 
We cannot leave him lying in the dust. 
KRIEMHILD.  Oh that is true!  The costliest and rarest
Today shall be as naught.

[She rises.]

Here, take the keys!

[She throws down keys.]

There’ll be no festivals again!  The silk,
The wondrous golden garments, and the linen—­
Bring everything.  Be sure to gather flowers—­
He loved them so!  And you must cut them all,
Even the little buds that have not bloomed. 
For whom then should they blossom?  Lay them all
Within his coffin, then my bridal robes,
And lay him softly down, and I’ll do so,